What it makes us
by AnadoraBlack
Summary: Emie Tate is sent back in time. As a skilled resident, she thought it'd be easy to serve on the battlefields of the Great War. Except it wasn't at all as she imagined it. Many many more...blue eyes? Nicholls x OC x OC on its own account
1. One long afternoon

_ A/N: Welcome readers! I am Anadora, and will be your host throughout your journey in the depths of What it makes us. Hope you enjoy it!_

_ The average temperature is pretty hot, blame the main attraction of the site, Mister Tom Hiddleston. Might as well wish to buy a box of tissues on your way in. :)_

* * *

**1. One long afternoon**

Emie had wished all morning for the end of her lessons. It was the last day of school of the year, and she was so sick to be obliged to still attend them when she already knew so much.

Emie was a doctor. A student doctor. A resident, as they say. And she was so tired of it.

Not to be pretentious, but she was more gifted than most of her colleagues, and than some of her teachers, even. They only had to blame her addiction to medical books and series.

She walked out of the amphi and started walking down the street towards the station. She was so going to be late for her train!

As she was about to cross the street, one sick driver decided to push his pedal, and aimed straight at her.

Emie froze on the passage.

Closed her eyes.

She just fell backwards, and landed hard on her back.

* * *

She opened her eyes. That wasn't the same sky! There weren't any high buildings around, nothing!

She tried to sit up. Someone pushed her shoulders back on the ground.

"Easy Miss. You've fell from quite high, ya know!"

Emie tried to see the man who was talking to her.

He was quite old, with a dirty grey beard and muddy eyes. His face was covered in dirt, and he missed two teeth.

This time she sat up.

Around her, it wasn't her city anymore. It was a village. A very old village, seeing as everyone was travelling either by foot or by horse. The houses themselves were in stones, but so small they looked like cabins.

* * *

"Where am I?" Emie looked back at the man. He had be rejoined by a woman approximatively his age, wearing a dirty blue dress and an apron on which she was wiping her hands.

"How could you ask that question, dear? You're where you have been when you fell off that roof! What took you anyway?"

Emie lifted her gaze. She was indeed placed as if she had fell from the small house she was lying in front of. Obviously those two's house.

"I...do not remember."

"Well, we've seen ya fall pretty hard, eh. Whatsya name?"

Emie got up very slowly. She wasn't even in her own clothes anymore! Her skinny jeans and white shirt had been replaced by a greenish dress and leather boots. Her blonde hair was pinned on the top of her head.

"Emie Tate. My name's Emie Tate."

"Nice to meet yer, Miss Tate. Where d'ya live?"

She shook her head and then acknowledged a satchel at her feet. It bore her initials. She opened it.

It was full of very, very old medical instruments. She took a tiny piece of paper out of a purse. She read it out loud."

* * *

"Dr Henry Lennings."

"Oh, you're the new nurse, aren't ya! C'mon, I'll show the way!" The woman started pulling Emie's sleeve until she followed her guide towards a far house, at the edge of the village.

"Me name's Victoria, by the way. If you wondered."

Emie nodded. "Thank you Victoria. For showing me the way."

The older woman smiled. She missed a tooth too. "A pleasure. Try not to climb on roofs anymore, right?" And she parted.

Emie breathed deeply to give her courage, and knocked on the wooden door.

A deep, annoyed voice answered. "About bloody time! I've called for you two weeks ago, girl!"

She sneered. Well, if this was her new teacher, she would have a lot of fun.

She pushed the door.

* * *

_Review, dearest!_


	2. Try not to render

**2. Try not to render**

"I said sow!"

Emie shook her head once again.

They had been in that argument for long minutes now. The patient was lying on the operation table, his leg bleeding like hell, his femur showing through the skin. The poor lad had made a serious encounter with a horse's legs.

"Emie, I said sow, for Heaven's sake!" Henry yelled again.

She shook her head one last time. "This man could live. We could save his leg. We could-"

"You've said that how many times now? He need antibiotics, Henry, he needs penicillin and morphine, Henry! I can put his bone back in, Henry!" He mimicked her squeaking voice to perfection after three months working together. "I said no. These are expensive. These are only found in places they can afford it. Now sow, or I'll do it myself."

She chuckled darkly. "Yeah? And, with your magical drunken hands, you could sow his heart off all the same! Give me that, you pathetic monster!" She took the hand sow, braced herself, and turned to the patient, still unconscious after having been given a high dose of chloroform. "Hold him still." And she started her sombre office.

* * *

"I can't believe I did that." Emie sat on the porch's way, wiping her bloodied hands on her doctor's apron.

Henry sat beside her, his brown hair moving along with the wind. He handed her a flask. She took it without comment, and sipped the whiskey.

"You know, I didn't imagine it like that."

He sighed. "I know. You poor city girls, begging to have a work, when you come to the countryside, everything's different." He took back the flask and took a long sip of alcohol.

"Thanks for the dress, by the way. It's beautiful." Emie said, thinking about the brand new working dress Henry had ordered in her state after this one ran old.

"You're welcome. Can't afford to have my nurse work naked as a worm, can I?" He smirked at her. "Though I'm sure you're not that bad when you don't wear a thing."

She chuckled. "Yeah. Whereas you..."

He laughed briefly.

Emie looked closely at Henry.

He was barely thirty, only three years older than her, and already looking so old in his grey eyes. He was also the funniest person she encountered, on both worlds.

She now knew she had landed in 1914, in south England. Still didn't how, and why, she had been added to this storyline. She just tried not to mess things up.

Henry and her were living together. He had lent her a room, she was cooking, and operating for him when he shaking hands could do no good to the patient.

Henry was alcoholic. He had fought. In Africa. He hadn't told her, but she had seen. How it had destroyed him.

So Emie had a friend. Forgotten, the time where she wondered if she could trust her fellow residents. She had a teacher barely older than her, and he was already being more precious than anyone else she had met in the hospital, back in London.

"We should get back in. The man's gonna wake up anytime. We should brace ourselves."

Emie nodded but took a small time more to breathe. She still couldn't get used to cutting humans' parts off when, in the 21st century, it was so easy to makes things better.

Now, the man who was lying in Henry's office could be of no use to his family. He would not bring money back to feed his brothers and sisters, and they would starve.

She shook her head. No, it wouldn't happen like this. Of course it wouldn't. She was just too sensitive.

* * *

"Good morning, Dr Tate." The Sergeant Martins took his cap off and bowed to Emie.

She smiled back. "Good morning, Sergeant." She continued walking towards the supply shop.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Tate, but I had something to ask to you."

Emie stopped and turned to the small man.

He was the village's militia chief, and she had operated many of his men, wounded in action.

"Ask."

His moustache shivered above his mouth, and he seemed to be very uncomfortable. "It's the war, Miss. Some of our men will be requisitioned."

Emie's eyes widened. What did it have to do with her?

"And?"

"Doctors are wanted too, Miss. I've already asked him, you know, but I'm sure Dr Lennings will listen to you better."

She shook her head. "Why should I ask him that? He's already served in a war. See what good it's done to him?"

He seemed sorry. "I know, Miss, but he has been asked by Major Stewart himself, Miss. The chief of cavalry. They will be here within the week. I know for sure they have met. But Dr Lennings is deaf to every argument I sent."

She nodded. "I'll try. As much as it pains me, I'll try. But if refuses even me, your Major will have to find another doctor."

The Sergeant nodded. "Thanks Miss." He bowed again and hurried back towards a square of men, wearing the blue uniform, who were waiting for their leader.

Emie looked up at the sky. How on Earth was she supposed to convince someone as stubborn as Henry?

* * *

_Revieeeew! :D_


	3. Gallantry still lives

**3. Gallantry still lives**

"You will pay for that." Henry's voice stiffened.

Emie chuckled and took the sewing kit in the drawing.

Henry was holding his hand, which was bleeding heavily.

After Emie had threatened to torture him in the worst ways ever, Henry had crushed his glass of whiskey with so much strength it had exploded and had opened a deep gash in his palm.

"I think you won't need anaesthetics, eh, doc?" She walked towards him, needle in hand, nylon in the other. She looked closely at the wound. "It could have been worse."

He looked at her form, up and down, as she was examining him. He then sneered. "At least, I have a good reason to stay here now."

She huffed. "As if it would stop them. As I understood poor Sergeant Martins, the Major is quite impressive."

Henry snorted. "Jaime? He's a dickhead. Farts up his ass." She chuckled. "I shouldn't say things like that in front of you. You're a woman, after all."

She started sewing his wound and he gritted his teeth together. It stung like the devil! Emie smiled. "Oh, I've heard worse. You speak quite...colourful words when you're dead drunk, you know."

Henry chuckled. "As if."

"Oh, I swear. And what's a "warhead thrower idiot bastard" to you, Henry?"

He leaned in, sending her his strong breath. "You. In the morning."

She stung his palm to make him shush.

He just chuckled more.

"So, are you going?"

He sighed. "What choice do I have?"

Emie cut the string with her teeth and looked up. "What are you afraid of, anyway? You've never fai-"

"I have to be sober."

Her eyes darkened several shades. She put back a strand of hair behind her ear, and sighed. "Oh. Yeah, that can be a problem."

"No, you think?"

She looked at him, determined. "Then, you'd better start now." She exited the room, and Henry soon heard bottles knocking together.

His grey eyes widened, and he ran to the kitchen. "Emie, don't!"

* * *

Five days later, Henry and Emie had won the war against alcohol. Henry's hands were still shaking, and he had still harsh moments during the night, but his personal nurse had taken care of him the best.

As they were going to visit a patient, they both heard a whine.

As they turned around to see whose horse it was, a cloud of dust waved in their direction.

Henry pushed her away. "Be careful. They won't look where they're walking."

A column of soldiers came galloping before their eyes, all dressed in green uniforms, with a sword at their hip.

Emie shook her head. What nonsense. Fighting guns and bombs with swords. British logic!

One tall, black horse came in front of all of the others, and stopped. The man on its back was most probably the highest ranked of the company.

Emie noticed his blonde hair under the cap, the thin moustache above the upper lip, and most of all the look of authority written on the man's face. Major Stewart.

"In honour of your King and country, the army requests that every man above 18 takes arms and fights for his country's victory!" Emie didn't listen to the rest of his speech.

She had been struck.

By an apparition.

* * *

Behind Stewart had approached another man, on foot this time, wearing the same green outfit and cap, though, as he was standing behind the black horse, obviously of an inferior rank.

His hair, between sandy brown and bronze, was hiding under his cap. His cheekbones were high, he was most probably gritting his teeth as showed the movements of his jaws, and he had one of the most beautiful pair of eyes the world had ever seen.

Blue as no one had ever encountered.

Emie gulped.

"Stop staring, you're making me look like an idiot." She elbowed Henry in the ribs. He chuckled. She looked back at the Major.

* * *

"Dr Lennings. Nice to see you again."

Once the Major had gotten down his magnificent horse, he had approached Emie and Henry, and had outstretched a hand to shake with the doctor.

"Yeah. Nice to see you too, Stewart."

Henry then turned to Emie. "This is Dr Tate, my assistant and pupil. Emie, this is Major Jaime Stewart."

He took his cap off, revealing perfectly combed hair, and kissed the back of her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Tate."

"Likewise, Major."

He retreated and the man she had been staring at earlier walked forward. Stewart put a hand on his shoulder. "This is my good friend, Captain James Nicholls."

His heels knocked together, and he equally kissed Emie's hand, without looking at her directly though, she noticed.

* * *

Henry cleared his throat. "Well, I must admit, we weren't waiting for you this early."

Stewart sighed and turned to Nicholls. "Unfortunately, James has trouble finding a good horse to ride, so we had to move in here early, seeing as you apparently have some nice specimen around here."

Henry chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure Captain Nicholls will find the perfect horse for him." The two soldiers started walking, presuming the two doctors to follow them. Henry finished his sentence. "Him and his pretty girl's ass."

Emie chuckled. "Really, Henry, if I didn't know you, I'd say you're jealous."

"I am. Look at him. As fresh as the morning breeze. Of course you'd look at a man like him."

She turned her head to her friend. "Don't say things like that."

"Don't mind me. Go and stare at Nicholls' pretty face for as long as you like. I have another battle to win." His hands shook again, so strongly he had to push them onto a table.

Emie turned around and hid her tears.

* * *

_So, she has met Pretty Guy. And Henry's upset. Good._

_ Review please! :)_


	4. Holes in the mud

**4. Holes in the mud**

"Scalpel" Emie got out of her reverie and passed Henry the small knife.

He pushed it on the man's chest, and she wiped the pouring blood.

Under the skin, the poor soldier had lived ten years long with a piece of wood in his body. And it was about to kill him.

"Emie, if you're going to day dream, I'd better ask someone else to assist me."

She snapped out of thoughts again, and wiped the blood once again. "Excuse me Henry. I was thinking about the circumstances which would bring a man to live with a piece of wood in his chest."

"Poverty. Don't wonder any longer."

She looked at him. He looked tired, but more at peace since he had finally won his war against whiskey.

He caught her gaze. "Well now. Staring at me, and not thinking about Pretty Eyes? Should I be flattered?"

She sighed and looked back down. "No. And stop calling Nicholls like that."

"Why? He does have pretty eyes."

She thought about the many other things Nicholls had pretty, but didn't say it. "If you say so."

He got the tiny piece of oak out of the man's chest. "There, beauty. Emie, ether and sewing kit. This man has many years to live yet."

* * *

"Thanks you, Dr Lennings. Perkins is a useful part of this company, and quite irreplaceable." The Major Stewart shook hands with Henry, and turned to Emie. "You too, Miss Tate. Thank you."

She waved his compliments away. "I do need your thanks. Henry did all the job."

The Major's eyes widened at the use of Henry's first-name, but he didn't comment and exited the tent.

"Oops. I think our dear Jaime now believes we are a couple, darling." He snaked an arm around her waist.

She kicked him aside with her hip. "Yeah, sure he does."

* * *

"Will you allow me, Miss?"

Emie turned around. Captain Nicholls was standing behind her, his cap under his arm, his bronze hair waving in the wind. She repressed the urge to pass a hand through them. He smiled a little and looked down at her luggage. "Do you need help?"

She gulped as silently as she could seeing the situation. "I would appreciate a hand or two, yes, thank you Captain."

She took two bags, and he took the other two, of course, the biggest of the four.

They silently walked up to Henry's and Emie's carriage. She put her bags at the back. Nicholls did the same.

He took his cap off again. "I was wondering. I've seen you operating. That's quite unusual for a woman that young, to be working with such...ease."

Emie stared at him. Was he trying to have a conversation with her? Oh my. "I'm not at ease at all, Captain. Where I come from, only one man out of twenty dies of his wounds. In here, everything is different. If I can save one out of ten, I am happy."

"Still, you do it without shaking."

"If you shake, the person you hold the life of dies."

His blue eyes finally met hers. She felt overwhelmed and completely out of space and time.

She forced herself to direct her gaze to his mouth. It didn't help. So she just turned around and pretended she had to check something in her bags.

"I will leave you to your friend, Miss Tate. Good day to you."

She turned around in enough time to meet his gaze again and see him walk away, slightly embarrassed by the look of it.

* * *

"Well, the man looks like a shy little thing."

Emie glared at Henry. "Stop it. I don't even know why he wanted to talk in the first place. It's as if he's been avoiding our presence since we arrived in this camp."

Henry chuckled. "Your presence, not mine. I've spent one or two evenings with dear Jaime and his Majesty of Good-looks."

Emie shot him a killing glare. "Not relevant."

"Oh, but yes, everything is relevant, on the contrary. The man is avoiding your presence, but not mine. That means a lot, doesn't it?" Henry looked up at her, sparks in his eyes. "The boy likes you."

"So what? He only has to speak up."

"Emie, dear, the guy's a soldier. Do you think he wants to embarrass himself with an annoying woman like yourself?"

She smirked. "You don't seem to be bothered by it."

He sighed. "Oh. But I am me, see, and that makes a big difference between the boy and I."

She took her beddings and came towards the spot she had decided to sleep on. "Oh, and stop calling him "the boy". He's older than you."

* * *

_I don't know why I'm writing a love triangle. Really no idea. But so far, it works in my brain._

_ Review!_

_ Oh, and, for those who'd wonder, I based Henry on Clint Barton in my fanfic What ifs don't change the world. Yep. That explains the "bottom" references... ^^_


	5. Never before

_ A/N: He he! Already got a review on this. How happy I am... :)_

* * *

**5. Never before**

Emie woke up, panting, clutching her sleeping back as if it had been a life-preserver.

She had had one of the most realistic dreams of her life. And really disturbing too, seeing the topic of it.

Worst was, she didn't remember the face. Had she been with James? Or Henry?

As she wondered this, something downed on her. She slapped a hand on her forehead.

Oh dear. She was equally attracted to two very different men.

On one side, Pretty-face, as Henry called him, gorgeous from eye to toe, with his gentleman manners, his beautiful speech and his...gentleness.

On the other side, Henry, the sickening doctor who didn't care about the life of his patients, who was trying his best to shove her off her patience, who was teasing her in the worst ways, and who was...strangely charming, in his one way.

She couldn't make her mind. And she knew that that day would be difficult, having realised that.

* * *

"Dammit Emie! Told you to be careful! Now the man might as well die!"

She knelt, retrieved the needle in the dust, and took it up. She quickly walked to a sink, washed the thin tool and burnt it with a lighter she had near.

She brought it back to Henry's care. "No need to act pesky. Here it is, your bloody needle!"

He looked at her strangely, and then turned back to his work.

After a short silence, he sighed. "Have you got your period or what?"

She stomped, and rushed out of the medical tent, wiping her dirty hands on her apron.

* * *

She almost ran to the horses' paddock.

Topthorn was showing his impressive muscle. She patted the stallion.

"Here, boy, nice and easy."

She heard paces behind her. "Are you alright, Miss Tate?" She didn't turn around at first, acknowledging the smooth and warm voice before everything else.

"I am...a little tired, I should say." She shuddered at the recall of her dream.

"Are you cold? Do you wish me to ask for a cloak?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you Captain. You really are kind, but...I should probably head back now."

Nicholls looked at the entrance of the tent. "Oh, I see. You and Dr Lennings have had another argument."

She eyed him, surprised. "What do you mean, another?"

He smiled kindly. "Well, we have ears, you know. Sometimes, both of your voices can be very loud."

She chuckled. "Yes, I'm sorry about that. I'll ask Henry to yell at me in the sign language."

Nicholls opened his mouth in wonder. She stared. "The sign language? You mean, the one for mute people?"

"And deaf people too." She gestured her straight palm under her chin, and then waved it, curved in a fist apart from the thumb and last finger.

"What does that mean?" He tried to make the same signs.

She helped him with the last move, until he signed it to perfection. "Congratulations, Captain. You've just said "Hello"."

He smiled, amazed. "You should teach me."

She smiled back. "Of course. But for now, I really have to go."

"Wait. How do you say "Goodbye"?"

She chuckled and then straightened. She then withdrew her hand, and simply waved.

Nicholls watched her walk away, and then parted his own way, repeating the "Hello" moves over and again.

* * *

"Henry, I'm sorry."

He sighed and wiped the blood off his hands, taking the sheets off the operating table and crumbling them on the floor. "That's okay. I shouldn't have said that. I can be a scumbag sometimes."

Emie smiled. "Not sometimes. All the time."

His grey eyes locked on her. "Eh, but, I've just realised. Have you just...apologized?"

She rolled her eyes and turned around to clean his medical tools.

Henry came behind her, almost lifting a hand to touch her shoulder. She felt it, but didn't move a hair, pretending to be oblivious to the fact.

He sighed and walked away.

She turned around. "Henry! Wait!"

He looked back at her, a hand on the tent's fabric. "What?"

She sighed. "You owe me a drink."

He rolled his eyes and exited the place.

Emie swore between her teeth.

* * *

_So, what do you think? Oh, also, I have a very limited knowledge of sign language, and the ones I know are proper to the French sign language. So if you don't recall the gesture for "Hello", that can be normal... ^^_

_ Review! :)_


	6. Intoxicated

**6. Intoxicated**

"Emie, put a cloth in front of your face! Now!"

Emie barely registered where Henry's voice was coming from before grabbing the low of her dress and placing it on her face. Her eyes still cried from the gas, but at least it was better.

With her other hand, she started heading for outside of the medical tent.

* * *

Suddenly, her wrist was caught by a strong and long fingered hand, which retreated her backwards.

"No, Miss Tate. Don't go outside just now. There still are Germans out there."

She turned to the Captain Nicholls' voice. "Why are you in here?"

"I wanted to make sure you were alright, of course!" He said that with such facility, she could have died of happiness.

They remained silent, his grip loosening but never fading away, and then the familiar sound of a pistol cracked not far from them, on their left.

Emie understood she had already gone out of the tent, but had been held, in the mist of the toxic fog, under the entrance.

Nicholls drew out his sword and leaned to her ear. She could feel his breath tickling her cheek. "Do not move."

And he left her. She tried to hear where he was going, and then the same pistol, closer to her than the previous time, and the unmistakable growl of agony of a man who had his chest sliced in two.

* * *

Emie bowed and rendered her small breakfast.

Nicholls was at her side at once, coughing. "Miss Tate!"

She collapsed, but his strong arms caught her, and she felt herself being lifted five feet above the ground, held by no one else that the man she kept dreaming about.

She felt herself being lowered on the operating table, and someone withdrew her cloth from her face.

The air was still toxic, but she could at least see.

The Captain Nicholls' face was above hers, eyeing her, concern written on his features.

She threw herself towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He hugged her very tightly until she stopped crying.

Emie had never been so scared of her life.

* * *

"Where's Henry?"

The Lieutenant Charlie shrugged. Emie ran to the Major. "Major Stewart, have you seen Dr Lennings?"

He looked down at her, a look of superiority, the one she couldn't stand, in his blue eyes. "No, I haven't, Miss Tate."

Nicholls ran after her. "Miss Tate! I think I've seen him! He was close to the horses' paddock when the grenade hit!"

Emie forgot everything about the increasing amount of patients she received in less than an hour, thanks to an ambush which, fortunately for her, had ended well for the British.

Many men were on the ground, some coughing thanks to the smoke, some moaning, bullet holes on their bodies.

She ignored them.

One body was lying next to Topthorn's paddock.

It was Henry.

In a blur, Emie saw Nicholls take the man in his arms and run with her towards the tent.

She didn't even remember him helping her with Henry's wounds.

* * *

"Oh, dear, I feel like I've been walked on by a thousand of horses."

Henry sat up, his gaze still blurred, his chest aching as he acknowledged the presence of tape around his ribs.

"Well, in fact, that's close to what happened."

Emie got back from the sink, where she had been cleaning his trashed clothes. Her eyes were red from the gas, and she wore chock on her figure.

"Emie? What happened to you?"

She tried to smile but grimaced instead. She straightened herself using a stool, and looked back at him. "If it hadn't been for the Captain, you wouldn't still have an assistant. I was enough stupid to go and look out for you, and got caught in the smoke, and a German was close, with his pistol." She started sobbing.

Henry got up. It ached in every corner of his body, it was almost as if death itself was spitting him out, but he got up and came to Emie.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. His ribs yelled, but he ignored the pain.

Very slowly, Emie stopped sobbing and wrapped her own arms around Henry's neck. They were almost the same height. Henry was inches taller than Emie.

She could gaze in his grey eyes without lifting her head.

* * *

They stared at each other for what seemed like hours.

And then pain made itself known again.

Someone yelled outside of the tent.

Henry let Emie go. She wiped her cheeks and grabbed her satchel.

"Stay here. I'm going to do what I can to save as many as possible. You rest."

But of course, after ten minutes, Henry was kneeling next to her, sewing chests, taping heads, and tearing bullets out of people's flesh.

* * *

_I really can't come to the moment something will actually happen between Emie and...one of them._

_**Who do you prefer, by the way?**_

_I have a huuuuge soft spot for Nicholls, of course, but that's my romantic side._

_ Anyway, as Henry's my character, and based on Jeremy Renner's badassery, I might like him as equally. Which doesn't help you... ^^_

_ Review please! :)_


	7. Up in the night

**7. Up in the night**

Emie woke up in the middle of the night, curled in her sleeping bag at the back of Henry's carriage. It soon appeared that she couldn't get back to sleep.

She got out of her "bed" and wrapped a scarf around her shoulders. The night wasn't cold, but the wind could still sting.

She wandered between the soldiers' tents, head up to the starry sky. She gazed at it, novice as she was to starry skies.

She walked so far without noticing, she had reached the small river the soldiers were using as water supply, a little far from the tents, but still close enough in case she needed someone.

Emie sat on the grass and leaned back down to watch the stars. She knew the names of some. She knew which one was Sirius, which one was Venus, she knew the Virgo constellation, but that was it. Still, she tried to guess the shapes of unknown constellations.

* * *

The grass moved behind her head, and she sensed she wasn't alone anymore.

Someone lied beside her, and she felt the fabric of a soldier's cap against her hand.

Nicholls.

"Couldn't sleep either, Captain?"

He sighed, his breath being echoed with the silent night. "Please, Miss Tate. Call me James. I hate being called Captain."

Emie smiled into the dark. "Very well, James." The name tasted so good on her tongue. "But then, you'll have to call me Emie. Miss Tate was how my mother was called as a teacher."

She heard his head turn to her. "If you insist. Emie."

She smiled to the sky.

They both did.

Until the silence grew too thick.

"Why did your parents call you Emie?"

She snapped her head to her left. His eyes were focused on her hair, and then got down her face till they reached her lips. She couldn't stand having him stare at her like that. She thought whispering would help hiding her daze. "It's short for Emily. It was my grandmother's name."

"Then, you're full name is Emily?"

She smiled. "No. I got her nickname instead." She watched as he resumed his analyse of her face. She decided to distract him. "You? Why James?"

His blue eyes snapped back on hers. "I don't know. Never asked my parents."

Emie looked at him intensely. He did the same. For seconds. Minutes. Decades. Centuries.

* * *

"Thanks for accompany me back, James. I think I might go back to sleep, thanks to you."

He played with his cap for a second. "That was nothing, I-" He trailed off, and suddenly his eyes were desperate. Emie breathed deeply.

She knew what was going on in James' head. The following day was the one they'd all move on again and go further into French lands.

They could well not go back alive.

She took a pace forward and took his cheek in her palm.

He was _so_ tall.

She caressed his skin for a moment, before putting her hand up on his neck, pulling him down to her.

Their kiss was soft and warm. Nothing like a passionate embrace. A soft kiss. Given with deep feelings. Not barely emerging desires.

James rested his forehead against Emie's, his cap still in one hand, the other on the small of her back.

They breathed together for a few seconds, and then their eyes opened and he let her go.

"Good night, Emie."

"Good night, James."

* * *

"Wake up, you lazy madam! See? That's what happens when you get up in the middle of the night to stare at skies!"

Emie's eyes snapped opened and stared into Henry's angry face.

Around her, the whole camp was already on the move. Apart from some of the soldiers, every one had their carriages ready.

Their own luggage was lying on the floor, before Emie's feet.

"How-? You've spied on me?"

He smirked mischievously. "Nope. No need for that. You were so noisy when you woke up I could follow your tracks down to the river!"

Emie suddenly thought the worst. Had he heard? Seen?

"When did you come up? Got back to sleep before you came back."

She refrained a sigh of relief. "Uh. An hour later. Two maybe. Not long."

"So what? Stared at the stars and then what?"

"Fell asleep on the riverbank. Oh, come on, Henry, I haven't waken up to hear you groan like a grandpa all day!" She got down her makeshift bed, wrapped her things quickly and threw it on the far end of the carriage.

* * *

Then, she turned around to help Henry with the luggage.

He was looking elsewhere. She followed her gaze.

Oh. So James had finally found a horse.

It was beautiful. Its robe was the colour of a deep sunset, and its hair was as dark as night. It seemed to be very feisty too.

But calmed when its master came to pat its cheek. From the distance, she still could read on James' lips. _Joey_.

His eyes found hers inexplicably. He smiled and put his opened hand down his chin, then waved it in a fist except for the thumb and last finger.

Emie smiled and signed back. He had remembered.

* * *

"You've taught him what exactly?"

Her eyes found Henry's, whose grey had darkened.

She shrugged. "Merely how to sign "Hello". Didn't think he'd remember it." Why was she feeling the need to explain herself anyway? Henry didn't own her, and if he felt something for her, he only had to make a move. James had. Sort of.

He snorted. "Oh, merely, eh?" He took her chin between two fingers, forced her head to turn at him, and took a pace backwards so she could see him square.

He put his two hands into a ball, gestured to break it, and then waved them as if he was juggling.

Emie's eyes widened. "Have you just...insulted me in sign language?"

Henry smirked at her, and rounded the carriage to get in the driver seat.

Emie got up next to him and crossed her arms.

She didn't say a word towards the journey.

* * *

_Yeah, if you wondered, Henry signed "ball-breaker". I love that one. ^^_

_ Review please!_


	8. One victim

_ A/N: Thanks for the sweet sweet reviews! All of the same author, but still, I love them with all my heart. :)_

_ I've started a playlist for this story. So far, I've got for your sweet ears Losing you memory by Ryan Star and The Radiance by Linkin Park. Will grow with the chaps I hope. :)_

* * *

**8. One victim**

"Dr Lennings, Miss Tate! We do need your help!"

Emie's head snapped at the Lieutenant Charlie as he ran into the medical tent, barely installed, while they were tidying their stuff.

They had settled in a small lumberjacks village, the previous inhabitants had been either enrolled or sent elsewhere, and now, everyone had a small boulder house to sleep in. Even Emie and Henry now had a kitchen and a sort of bathroom. That was a change after many months living outside.

She exchanged a glance with Henry, and took her satchel. She gestured Charlie to show them the way.

"What happened?" Henry was walking next to his pupil, his face tense. Barely arrived and someone already wounded? Bad omen.

"One of our Privates has tried to put a saddle on Captain Nicholls' horse, sir. It shot him right in the head."

Emie looked at Henry. She knew that there were very few chances that the Private would survive.

They arrived on site. The man had been transported to a table, not far from the soldiers' canteen. They gestured to the group of Privates gathered around the patient to back away while they were working.

One look at the man's head and they knew that one was going to be a tricky one. He had been shot on the side of his head. A small bump in his hair translated that his skull hadn't been broken, but that he had a ball of blood building between the bone and skin. They had to operate as soon as possible.

Emie also noticed that the ear had been touched. Without looking, she knew the ear-drum had been pierced. She had to take care of that too.

"Alright. We need two strong men to carry this one to our tent. He has to be heavily operated, and as soon as possible. But I'm afraid he won't be useful for a good month."

Charlie nodded and gestured two Privates to take care of the transport. "I will inform the Major. Thank you."

Henry shrugged. "You haven't asked me to come here if it wasn't for me to use my skills, eh?"

* * *

And they all walked back to the tent, Emie first as she grabbed her apron swiftly and washed her hands as properly as she could.

The two Privates asked if they could be of some use, Henry waved them to go outside, and he turned to Emie.

Without a word, she nodded and grabbed a razor to shave the man's head while Henry was preparing his hands and tools.

"Will you be okay? That could turn nasty. If we didn't see it right and his skull is indeed broken, we'd make his brain escape his head."

Emie repressed the nausea at the thought. She hated to see brains of the floor. "I'll be okay. Just, stop talking about that."

He smirked and approached her, leaned over her shoulder to check her work. "He doesn't need to be as good looking as if he came out of the barber, just do it quickly, Emie."

She shuddered at the contact, but quickened her work anyway.

As she was done with it, Henry gently pushed her away and took his scalpel. "I'll need to see. Prepare several cloths, it's going to be red as hell over here."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, and I thought I could keep this dress clean for another month."

He chuckled. "Women and their interests. I'll buy you another one."

She looked at him blankly before grabbing a roll of sterile tape and putting her hands above his.

* * *

"I knew it'd have been a miracle if he had gone through this." Henry wiped his hands harshly, as if he wanted to rip his skin off.

The dead body was still lying on the table, his head still spitting blood, his heart stopped forever.

"We couldn't have known he had a tumour. This is still-"

"Still what, Emie? Hard to operate? To spot before operating? Still what?"

She stared into his painful gaze. She put down her soiled tape, and approached the man, slowly wrapping her arms around his torso.

He didn't do anything for a short moment, and then he grabbed her as if she was the last thing that prevented him to turn mad.

She started cuddling him, caressing his back, her hands still pouring with both the patient and her blood. "Sshh, that's okay. I hate war too."

He straightened his head and gazed into her eyes.

Someone cleared his throat behind them.

* * *

"Major, I'm sorry to say that you've lost a man today."

Jaime barely looked at the dead man, taking off his white officer's gloves. "That's alright. He'll be replaced soon. At least you've tried your best."

Emie repressed a growl. How could he be so...indifferent?

"You wanted to tell us something, Major?"

The man planted his blue eyes into Emie's. "Yes, Miss Tate, indeed I was here to relay a message. You should prepare yourselves for a rush of patients during the following days. One of our man has been discovered with flu."

Henry sighed. "Great, another epidemic. Thanks for saying. Have you prepared a house for quarantine?"

He shook his head, obviously surprised. "I thought you'd take care of this in here."

Henry sneered. "Yeah, in a tent opened to winds! Of course that wouldn't spread the whole thing to the rest of the country!" He breathed deeply to calm himself down. "I need you to ask each and every of your man if they have already had flu before. Those who'd had it won't have it another time. Not that one anyway. Those you can't be contaminated will help us. I want them here as soon as possible."

"Will this be all?"

"No. Those who start feeling bad have to come to us immediately so we start treating them. Some of your men can well die of that shit, I hope you realise that!"

Jaime nodded. "I'll do my best to help you." He bowed to them and exited the tent.

Henry turned to Emie. "Had it or I have to lock you down?"

She smirked. She had been vaccinated for that ages before. "Had it. Twice." She lied.

He tilted his head. "Well, that explains some things, seeing has it leaves scars on the frontal cortex."

She stuck her tongue at him.

He chuckled and gathered needles and tape for feverish soldiers.

* * *

After two days, half of the company was ill. Almost all of the soldiers' houses had been quarantined, and there barely was a dozen of men who could help Henry and Emie.

On that day, Charlie came running towards her. "Miss Tate!"

She was treating a man who was already on the edge of death. He had been one of the first to be contaminated. She left him be after he drank all of his herb potion, supposed to drain the fever.

"What is it, Charlie?"

"It's the Captain, Miss! He's waken up, and he's boiling! I think he caught it too!"

She repressed a swear and ran towards James' barrack. Charlie stayed outside, as he hadn't had flu before but was miraculously immune to it to that point.

She entered James' house for the first time since they settled down. His table was full of drawings. She didn't take the time to look at them, as a moan came from the bedroom.

James had tried to wake up and had fallen on the wooden floor, his forehead sweating like hell.

She knelt next to him and helped him up back to his bed.

"James? Can you hear me?" He seemed so far away.

His blue eyes searched hers. "Emie. I'm so cold."

She put his blanket over him and put another she had with her on top of it, to be certain he'd be warm enough. She got back to the main room and took a sink of water, bringing it back to his bed.

She soaked the tape and placed it on his forehead. "Keep that on your head. I'm going to prepare you something that will get your temperature down."

He looked at her again. "Thank you, Emie. You should take care of our men first. Let me die."

She chuckled. "You're not going to die, Captain Nicholls. If you were, I'd kill you myself with my bare hands. Close your eyes and try to get some rest." She leaned in and kissed his wet forehead.

His sighed in content.

* * *

A few hours later, James' fever hadn't come down, but he was more lucid than before. He had even eaten a little before fainting. Emie had asked one immune Private to watch over him while she was taking care of her other patients.

The thing that was enraging her the most was that the Major Stewart, though immune to the virus, stayed locked in his barrack, not helping anyone.

She cursed him many times over that day.

"So, how's Pretty-eyes?"

Emie snapped her head towards Henry, who was covering a soldier's body with a blanket. Another dead. Great.

"He's gonna make it. Fortunately for him, he hasn't been in too much contact with the others to be constantly in presence of the virus."

Henry nodded. "And you left him alone? That's so sweet of you to remember there are others to attend to!"

She looked at him closely. His grey eyes were darker then usual.

She sighed.

She'd keep this conversation for another time.

She walked towards another diseased.

* * *

_Guessed what happened or not? Well, if you haven't, you will in the next chapter._

_ Sorry, James' so cute, but he has a harsh competition. ^^ Henry might be rude and everything, but that's how a man is when he likes a woman who he knows will never like him for many reasons. ;)_

_ Review! :D_


	9. Fascination

_ A/N: You can add The Messenger by Linkin Park to your playlist._

* * *

**9. Fascination**

A week later, the epidemic had worn out. A few men were still ill and resting in their barracks, but most of it had either gone well or very bad. More than 50 men were dead.

Emie and Henry had opened a graveyard behind the small village, with home-made crosses which bore the names and ranks of every dead man.

It had been hard.

James Nicholls had had a harsh time on his third night of illness, but thanks to Emie's good care, he was now more than well, even if he had had to be supported the first few times he tried to walk alone.

"Emie, stop dreaming and pass me that mortar!"

She snapped back from her sombre thoughts and gazed back into the tent. Henry was preparing several potions in prevision of other diseases to come.

Outside, the incessant work of wheelbarrows taking the dead from one edge to the other was highly disturbing.

She took advantage of the situation.

"So, you've seen it, heard it or guessed it?"

Henry's grey eyes locked on Emie's, as if he was trying to guess if she was serious.

Apparently she was. "Seen it. That was pretty cute, in fact." He took a brass of herbs and threw in a large bowl, externalising his anger on something intangible.

She sighed. "You could have said it."

"And what good would that had done?"

She walked forward a little, still keeping a safety distance between the two of them. "Why are you acting like this? Why are you always acting like this?"

He looked at her, enraged this time. He tried to keep his voice down. "_Why_? Emie, are you blind, deaf or anything else? Or are you just an idiot?"

She took her apron off and threw it to the ground. "Well, when you want to talk about it other than by yelling at me for no reason, you know where to find me!"

* * *

She reached their own barrack in no time. The smashed door echoed in the small kitchen/dining-room. She almost ran to their bedroom, breathing heavily to calm her racing heart.

Henry crashed the door.

Emie breathed once again and turned on her spot.

He jumped on her, stole her arms, put them on his back and crashed his warm lips on hers.

So different from her kiss with James. As much as that one had been deep and desperate, this one was passionate and completely insane.

Emie put her hands up, rubbing Henry's back as his callous hands caressed her face.

Without any warning, he deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue on Emie's mouth, probably at first thinking that she never had been kissed like that.

But he was so wrong. Emie had had so many boyfriends who didn't mean anything to her.

She pushed Henry against the wall, answering the kiss and invading his own mouth.

He growled and pulled on her dress' fabric.

She made herself fall on top of Henry's bed.

His warm and hard body crashed on hers, and there wasn't a part of her that wasn't part of him. Even with their clothes on, she could feel him, and want him more than anything else.

His kisses trailed off, and he lifted his head to breathe.

She was panting so hard, it made him smirk. "Well, Miss Tate, who do you take this as an answer?"

She smirked back and stole his lips with hers again.

* * *

Later that day Emie found herself sleeping in Henry's arms on his bed. She had been completely oblivious to the fact that there was probably a bunch of soldiers waiting for their care.

She got up, made sure her dress was still properly covering her body, and braided back her hair.

Henry chuckled behind her and got up too, wrapping his arms around her.

"So? What are you going to do about this?"

She turned around, breaking his embrace, looking at him, deadly serious. "I don't know, Henry. I really don't know."

He sighed. "You like him too, eh?"

She nodded. "That's the worst part. Loving two men as different as you two are, that will be the end of me."

She thought he'd put back his angry mask on again, but instead, he took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "When you are sure, you know where to find me."

And he exited the room.

Emie turned around and kicked the wall above her bed.

How on earth was she supposed to get out of this?

* * *

_Yeah! Love triangle definitely on people! :)_

_ Review!_


	10. Lost to the cause

_ A/N: Add Lullaby by Nickelback and With or without you by U2 to the playlist, dear!_

* * *

**10. Lost to the cause**

Emie sat up in her bed. It was early, and still, she could sense something was going on.

Beside her bed, Henry was still peacefully sleeping. She silently got on her feet and head for the bathroom.

Her hair was a mess, as always. This time, she decided to let it loose on her shoulders. She grimaced. They had taken some length during her time in that timeline. She hated to have long hair.

She swiftly put her whole new work dress on, a light blue, as favoured by Henry apparently, and went out of the small barrack.

Many soldiers were already up, but most of the camp was still sleeping.

She decided to head for the horses' paddock.

Joey had been put next to Topthorn. And apparently, the two horses were having a harsh time together. It reminded her of some other men in here having to fight over another kind of gift than saddles and riders.

* * *

She patted Topthorn's cheek and turned to Joey, slowly putting her hand before his nose so he could acknowledge her scent.

"Be careful. He has bitten some others less pretty than you."

Emie smiled before turning around.

She nearly forgot to breathe.

James was standing in a very unusual dark blue outfit, and was currently putting white gloves on his graceful hands.

"Good morning, James."

He smiled. "Good morning, Emie."

They gazed at each other for a moment, until Joey, by a very well placed kick of the head on Emie's arm, reminded them of the place and time they were currently in.

James chuckled. "Alright, Joey. We are going, don't worry." He walked in front of Emie, looking at her playfully, and opened the paddock to take his horse by the moors, making him walk towards the stables to take his saddle.

Emie followed them slowly, taking her time to gather her thoughts.

* * *

"Have you ever ridden, Emie?"

James was perched on Joey's back, looking like a god or something close to it.

She gaped and then chuckled. "Me? Oh no! I must be such a pain for the poor horse! And besides, I'm afraid of heights."

He looked at her, very amused. "You know, a horse is barely standing two meters above the ground."

"Two meters' a lot, Captain."

He huffed and got down Joey's back. He looked around them, making sure no one was looking.

He took her face in his two gloved hands and kissed her lightly.

She looked into his insanely blue eyes, and stared.

He smiled again, before climbing once again on his horse's saddle. "I will teach you when I come back. Make sure you don't have another half dead man to take care of when I come for you."

She chuckled. "Wow, Captain, what have you eaten today?"

He smiled before kicking Joey's side. "Nothing. I just realised I was a man, that's all!"

Emie laughed into the silence left after his departure.

She caressed her lips and turned around to get back to her barrack.

* * *

"Miss Tate." Emie jumped, startled by the Major's low voice coming from just behind her.

He had fetched Topthorn, whom he was holding by the reins.

"Major Stewart. Good day to you."

He bowed. "I just wanted to inform you of a practise charge this morning. You should prepare yourselves for minor injuries, in case. Some of our men are still stuttering on horses."

She nodded. "I will pass the message to Dr Lennings. Thank you, Major."

She repressed the urge to tell him, no, to yell at him, about how stupid this whole "cavalry against guns" was. But he got it in her eyes.

"I will do my best to bring back as many men as possible. Miss Tate." He bowed again and walked away, Topthorn pulling on the reins, impatient as he was to show Joey how much he was worth.

Emie shook her head is disdain, and climbed the short stairs to get back in.

What a horrible day to come.

* * *

_Short one, this one. Sorry about that, but...you know me. I'm so willing to make James as cute as possible I forget the main plots and everything. ^^_

_ Review please!_


	11. Joey's generosity

_ A/N: Idioteque by Radiohead, maybe? :D_

* * *

**11. Joey's generosity**

"I assure you, you can wish to teach me anything, but riding a horse just won't do!"

James just laughed before taking Emie's waist, lifting her as she she weighed less than a feather and putting her safely on Joey's saddle.

She gripped the reins, trying not to think about the ground, standing two meters down her feet.

James chuckled again. "And I assure you, Miss Tate, that you'll appreciate to ride once you forget about the height." And with those words, he climbed behind her.

She felt his arms rounding her waist to take the reins beside her hands.

His breath was just beside her ear. It tickled her skin.

"Easy now. Kick Joey's side very softly. He'll understand he has to walk."

She rolled her eyes and did as asked. She kicked Joey's sides to softly he didn't move. She had to do it again, a little more strongly this time.

She jumped as Joey started to walk towards the end of the paddock.

Emie tried not to blush when the other soldiers started to gaze towards James and her.

She tried to forget as well that Henry was currently standing on their barrack's porch, his grey eyes sad.

* * *

"You manage beautifully, you know. I can't come to why you were so afraid to rise a horse."

Emie rolled her eyes and drove Joey back to where James was standing, in the middle of a practise field. "And I can't manage to imagine how you can be so stubborn, sir."

He smirked. "That's the way I am. In private. Don't tell Jaime."

She laughed. It startled Joey, who jumped a little. Emie shuddered and then turned back to James. "Okay. I think I've had enough for today. You'll teach me how to jump some other."

He smiled and calmly walked to her, gripping her ankles to help her down.

She landed safely in his arms.

He kept her against him for a moment, gazing in her eyes.

She smiled and pecked him on the lips. "You should stop looking at me like that, James. I already have difficulties standing when you're near."

He chuckled. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?" She nodded. He smiled and leaned in, putting his lips on hers.

She couldn't care less about the huge amount of soldiers who could pass their way and witness their embrace. She was in James' arms, and that's the only thing that counted.

* * *

"So, how was it?"

Emie turned around to see Henry walking her way, his arms tanned by the summer's sun, his hands full of empty water bottles.

She sighed. "I hate it. Even more than cutting human parts."

He sneered. "It didn't seem like it."

She returned the sneer. "I can act pretty well, you know. Besides, if you wanted my company for the day, you only had to ask."

He turned to face her, deadly serious. "Emie. We both know that I wouldn't have stood a chance against Pretty-eyes."

She sighed again and walked to him, leaving a safety distance between their bodies, as she knew that if they were touching, she'd lose control as she had done last time. "You don't know that."

"Oh, but I do." He outstretched a hand and carefully placed it on Emie's cheek, his callous fingers scratching against her skin. "I hope you find the happiness you deserve. I had my chance and spoiled it. Don't mind me."

He tried to retreat his hand from her, but in an impulse, Emie gripped it and pulled him to her.

"Henry, please. It is as hard for me as it is for you. All I ask for is patience."

His eyes darkened a shade. "I don't really like to hope when I know I'll be the one to be rejected in the end."

And he shoved his hand out of her grip, walking back down the stairs to fetch water.

* * *

Emie found herself sobbing in her sleep, that night.

Hopefully, as she opened her eyes, waking up after a horrid nightmare involving a high bridge and horses, she was alone in the bedroom.

Henry hadn't come home yet.

* * *

_Review please!_

_ Oh, and I'm sorry if I end this story too soon for your taste, but I have agreed to write until the 15__th__ chapter and not more. There's not much to write about anyway, so... ^^_


	12. The charge is coming

_ A/N: So, I am so sorry this story is going to end to suddenly, but I've watched War horse again last night, and had to admit there weren't many things to add to the plot._

_ And about the playlist, I appreciate the fact that you, Destrier, have added each and every song. :) Love you for that! And add Dark paradise by Lana Del Rey, brilliant text._

* * *

**12. The charge is coming**

Emie was standing in front of her barrack on that night. She was standing there to think, mostly, and also to take a deep breath of fresh country air.

And she knew that something important had occurred. The men were nervous, stealing glances between them.

That's when she saw _him_.

James was standing across the road, staring at her.

His blue eyes full of fear.

He lifted his hand. He put the left one on his right elbow and waved the two towards his torso.

Emie gasped as he turned around and walked towards the wood.

He had signed "Help me".

She literally ran behind him.

* * *

"James!" Emie lifted her skirts to run faster, as he was walking awfully quickly. She hadn't realised he was driving her far from the camp.

He suddenly stopped. She did as well, still standing a good yard apart from him. "James?"

He turned on his heels, his eyes still torn, and walked to her.

He took her face in his hands and crashed his lips on hers, desperately.

She put her own hands on his, kissing back as equally desperate.

He pushed her against a tree, still cupping her face and tracing circles of fire against her skin. She put her hands down on his back, pulling him closer.

Without any sense of consciousness, Emie slowly opened her lips and put her tongue in James' mouth.

He tasted so good. Something between fresh herbs and smoke.

He parted their lips and rested his forehead against hers.

She didn't have to ask. "We are going tomorrow."

She let out a small cry before he stole her lips again.

And this time nothing tore them apart.

* * *

The following morning, Emie got out of scratching soldier's sheets. And she wasn't lying under them alone.

She smiled in the darkness, and then remembered what had pushed her to do this. What had pushed her to sleep with James. For the first, and probably the last time.

He stirred next to her and she put a comforting hand to his chest. He shuddered under her touch and opened his eyes.

He bolted upright when he saw her face.

"Oh, dear God! I thought-" She put a finger on his lips.

"Sshh, James." And she replaced her finger with her lips.

He didn't kiss her back, still stunned. "I thought it had been a dream." She chuckled. "I'm so sorry, Emie. Because of me, you are compromised."

She shook her head and pushed his back onto the pillow. "Stop saying nonsense, James. If I hadn't done it, I would have regretted it my whole life."

He smiled faintly. "But...what if the others-"

"I don't care what your fellow soldiers will think of me. All that counts is what _you_ think of me."

James outstretched his hand and caressed Emie's cheek. She closed her eyes to take in the awakening feeling in her stomach. "I am so sorry. If I had had even the slightest chance of coming back-"

"I would have loved to be your wife, James Nicholls."

He smiled. "You know, sometimes you should let me end my sentences." She chuckled. His eyes darkened. "I should get up. We are going early."

She nodded and leaned in to kiss him carefully and deeply. "I love you, James."

He looked at her, a mix of joy and pain in his blue orbs. "I love you too, Emie."

And he got up, turning to put his soldier uniform back on.

As he turned one last time to say goodbye, Emie got up, wrapped in James' sheets, and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him more closely than anything else she had ever held.

They kissed desperately one last time, and James said her once again how much he was sorry.

Her last words for him were "Be careful".

And James was gone.

* * *

Later that day, Perkins came storming into Emie and Henry's barrack while she was preparing the midday meal without much heart.

"Miss Tate. You and the Dr are requisitioned for the battlefield, Miss. The Major's orders."

She looked at him blankly. "But...the men are gone since early this morning!"

"They are due to fight only this afternoon, Miss. The Major thought it better if the nurse team arrived later than the cavalry, in case. The Germans won't kill you anyway, so..."

She looked down to hide the tears she had been repressing all day. "Thank you, Perkins."

"Pleasure Miss. Oh, and, the Cap'n gave me that for you."

He handed her a letter. She took it, shaking, and thanked the lad once again before exiting to her room to read.

* * *

"_Emie, dear Emie,_

_ I would have so loved to spend the rest of my life at your side._

_ I am sorry the events took such turn that I will not be able to see your face ever again._

_ You are the love of my life, Emie Tate. Never forget that._

_ I'm counting on you to take care of Joey, if he ever makes it. He will be the link between you and I, wherever I will be._

_ I love you,_

_ James._"

Emie sobbed and her tears wetted the paper.

Two strong arms came wrapping themselves around her. She turned around and hugged Henry tightly, wishing so much to wipe the pain away.

"I'm so sorry, Emie. So sorry."

And they stayed like this until Perkins came to fetch them.

Emie was heartbroken.

* * *

_I'm so mean. I know that._

_ Next chap will be the charge and Emie coping with you-know-what. I'm already crying writing about it. Bugger._

_ I'll make chap fourteen a little lighter, but you'll all wait for chap fifteen. I can't promise how this is gonna end, sorry._

_ Review anyway, and try not to cry on your keyboard, that won't do it any good. :'(_


	13. Bless the dead

_ A/N: Hello and sorry to each and every of you. I had to take a long pause from this story, both to take care of other pending stories and to rethink about the ending of this one. You know what? You are about to eat five more chapters after this one. Decided what the final "plot" would be, and I'm sure you'll like it._

_ Now, pick your tissues, you-know-which-scene is coming... :'(_

* * *

**13. Bless the dead**

Emie and Henry's carriage was probably to darkest-looking of all. Perkins and the rest of the reinforcement cavalry were riding ahead of the medical team, including them and another carriage rode by a priest-doctor, Father John.

Emie had fallen into a sense of nothingness that didn't change the way she felt about James and his fate. Once they had gone from the camp, she had felt as if the other half of her soul had been ripper apart from her.

Henry, on the other hand, looked as if nothing would ever be possible between them now. And he probably was right anyway.

The road was long. And it was painful.

* * *

They followed the horses' traces for approximatively two hours, until they stopped, a feel of blood in the air.

Perkins came riding next to them.

"We are almost there."

Henry nodded gravely. "Seeing as we don't hear anything, I guess it's over?"

Emie repressed a squeak.

Perkins nodded, his mouth twitching nervously. "The scouts say that the Germans are gone. But not the-" he trailed off, and Emie felt tears coming down her cheeks. "Anyway, when we're there, you know what you need to do."

Henry nodded again and, when Perkins was gone, squeezed Emie's hand gently. She turned her eyes to his, and she saw that he too repressed tears.

They remained silent for another twenty minutes.

* * *

The scene was horrid. No others words could describe what it had been. A carnage. Horsemen against firearms. Emie felt a rage grow inside of her, and she swore herself that if Jamie had been there she would have killed him.

Henry stopped the carriage and they both mounted the tent rather quickly.

Some men were still moving, bullets ripping their flesh.

"Emie..."

She followed her friend's gaze and saw that among the British soldiers, were Germans, all wounded. She shook her head. "We have to help them too, it would be inhuman not to."

He nodded and took his satchel.

She followed, putting her apron on her chest.

"I need you to help us, Perkins. Take a few men and gather the dead in one area of the field, we have to bury them. This way we'll know who is still alive."

The man nodded gravely and gestured a group of six to follow him.

Emie sighed heavily. The scent of blood, mixed with mud, made her stomach twitch.

"Emie? You'll do alright, come on." Henry pulled her gently by the hand, and they both knelt next to their first patient.

Many died in their hands, their wounds too deep to be healed, and some even had to be killed by Perkins' hand to end their suffering.

Many horses were among the patients.

But, as Emie perfectly knew, wounded horses wouldn't be of any use.

She was glad to see that neither Joey nor Topthorn were among them.

* * *

As midday rose, Henry and Emie had operated a good thirty men, both British and German, though these were easier to heal, seeing as their wounds were caused by either swords or horseshoes.

"Henry, I...need a break."

Another man, barely eighteen, had just died in her arms. His skull half opened, his chest horridly bumped.

Henry got up, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and nodded to her. "Go. Drink something and try to cut you off this shit. I'll call you if I need you."

She tried to smile gratefully, failed, and kissed his cheek, leaving a tear or two on his skin. "Thank you, Henry."

She walked away towards their carriage, sat there and closed her eyes.

Hopefully, the wind helped masking the sounds of dying men on the ground, and she found herself thinking about the previous night. James' hands on her skin, his lips on hers. A sense of peace waved over her.

It didn't last.

* * *

"Emie!" The cry was so loud she had no other option than opening her eyes and see Henry, yards away, waving her to run to him as fast as she could.

She lifted her skirts and ran all she had.

There, on the muddy ground, barely breathing, his kind face torn in pain, his chest bleeding heavily from a bullet wound near his collarbone, his leg broken, was Charlie.

She fell on her knees and grabbed the Lieutenant's head. "Charlie? Charlie, oh, tell me you hear me, please! Charlie!"

He stirred in her arms, his mouth twitching in pain.

She looked up into Henry's face.

He nodded. "I can save him. His wounds are far better than others'. I need you to take care of his leg while I try to see where that bloody bullet has touched him."

She nodded back, put Charlie's head back onto the ground, and moved to look at his leg.

Fortunately for him, the bone hadn't pierced the flesh. She grabbed the limb and tore it with all her strength, pushing the bone back into place.

An horrible crack, followed by Charlie's cry, told her she had done it.

Emie quickly grabbed a band of gaze and wrapped it securely around Charlie's leg. He would need a brace, but that would have to wait.

Meanwhile, Henry had ripped Charlie's shirt to reveal the bullet wound. All over his chest, bruises told them he had fallen hard from his horse but hadn't been trampled on.

He grabbed a scalpel and gestured Emie to make sure the patient wouldn't move. She pushed her whole weight onto Charlie's shoulders, and Henry pushed the blade into the wound, searching for the piece of metal that poisoned his blood.

Charlie's eyes snapped opened and he let out a cry. Emie tried to shush him up, wiping his forehead. His kind eyes found hers, and he seemed better. Trusting at least. She smiled softly and kissed his cheek.

"You'll be alright, Charlie."

Henry looked up, a small ball of iron in his palm. "I think you will, Lieutenant. Just stay still a little longer, I'm going to stitch you up and you'll be off."

Charlie nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."

Then his eyes met Emie's once again. "Miss Tate, I'm so sorry, we tried." He stirred.

She tutted. "I know, Charlie, that's alright. I'm sorry I couldn't save you all."

He grimaced. "I mean...James tried, you know. But Jamie wanted us to be first on line." Her heart stopped beating for a long second, all blood leaving her face. "I didn't see him fall. But I-"

Henry cut him off. "Don't move, soldier, or you'll lose your arm."

Emie left them alone, got up, and breathed heavily.

This time her blue eyes were looking for someone on the field.

After Charlie was secured into their carriage, Emie and Henry resumed their tending, until she spotted Perkins and a group of men, around a spot, their caps off.

She knew.

* * *

She slowly got up, ignored Henry's call, and walked towards them.

Two arms pulled her back. She got out of their grip, and resumed her walk, a little faster.

He was there. Lying on the ground, his beautiful blue eyes closed, as if he was sleeping. But his chest was too much...ripped apart for any chance of survival.

Emie fell next to him and stroke his bronze hair.

"James..." She looked up and let out a heartbreaking scream, before starting crying on James' face, grabbing every inch of him she could. She kissed him gently, and was lifted from the ground.

She didn't fight it this time. As much as she was driven far from him, she couldn't wipe the blood on his shirt, the trillion bullet holes in his flesh, and the look of astonishing peace on his face.

When she was put down onto the tent's table, Emie close her eyes and fell into a cloud of pain and loss.

She hoped never to wake up again.

* * *

_Jeez I'm done with it! Never knew how to get on with that chapter without crying my ass off. That's why I made Charlie survive. First, because we don't know for sure he's dead in the movie, and second because I need someone to survive, if only to "lighten" the mood._

_ Oh gosh, my vision's so blurred I can't see a thing._

_ And when you know I'm listening to This land by Hans Zimmer (add it), you understand everything... :(_


	14. What news is worse

_ A/N: I hate it when work prevent me from writing. So that's what it does when I'm left with a day off. :D_

* * *

**14. What news is worse**

* * *

Emie didn't wake up that day. Nor did she the following day, or the next, or the next.

She stayed off an entire week.

During that time, Henry had taken care of everything. He had made sure James would be awarded a personal grave, in which he placed one of Emie's ribbons – he was sure she would have appreciated the gesture – and on which he had placed a wooden cross.

And the days of the cavalry were over.

On the third day, Perkins had come to him, his face graver than ever, while he was changing Charlie's bandages.

They had been called elsewhere.

Back on the coast.

To supervise a hospital.

And who were they to refuse?

So when Emie finally opened her eyes, she was lying in a room much more foreign than her barracks' one.

* * *

"Henry!"

The doctor hurried back into his room at the desperate cry.

When he opened the door, he could see two things. One, Emie was awake, and could stand up pretty well. Second, she was puking in a bucket in one corner of the room.

He hurried at her side and held her head back, before handing her a canteen of water.

She turned her blonde head to him.

Her bangs covered her sweaty face, and she looked so miserable it made his heart twitch.

But she was still fierce.

"Where am I, Henry?"

He pulled her slowly back onto the bed and pushed a hand to her forehead, but she wasn't burning. Only sick. Which was odd, but not so much. After all, he had seen many other psychosomatic illnesses in his carrier.

"In Boulogne's hospital. That is where we have been assigned."

Her eyes assessed the light blue walls, the faint noises coming from outside, the paper wall standing in one corner of the room, the stained aprons in another. "How long?"

He sighed. "An entire week. I had to make you eat soup only, liquid things were the only sustains you swallowed. We were all concerned, you know."

"We? Who is we?"

"Well, Charlie, of course-" he hurried, seeing she was about to say something, "who is perfectly well and my new assistant for the time being, and Doctor Salomon, the other surgeon in this god forsaken place."

She sighed in relief. "Charlie has survived. Charlie is well." She seemed to be grabbing that thought more than any other.

And then another spasm took her, and she had to vomit again.

* * *

Once Emie had 'eaten' and drunk and after Henry had tended to her, making sure had no sequels of her long sleepy state, she dressed up and walked out of the room and into the personnel hallway.

Many white nurses were hurrying all around, gathering supplies, running in every direction, and it reminded Emie of her good old hospital back in the 2010s.

Except there wasn't a twenty acres wide morgue in that one.

Many of the patients were soldiers, as usual, as well as some local people who had been caught in crossfire.

Emie then learned that the cavalry thing had been abandoned, and that in place of that, each soldier had now firearms and fought in dug fields.

She wasn't sure which was the worst.

* * *

"No, Emie, that is out of the question!"

"Henry, I told you I was alright, now please let me do something useful!"

He shook his head one last time, under the gaze of one blushing Charlie. "I said no. You still need to work on your reflexes. For God's sake, Emie, you stayed under for a week!"

"And I survived!"

"I'm not sure your brain's ready to see many more corpses, is it?"

She shuddered but didn't surrender. "They won't be corpses once I've tended to them."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Tomorrow. As for today, you do paperwork."

"I've done paperwork all week!"

"And see how much good it has done you! Now, you're certain I don't lack anything in the operation room!"

She snorted at the sarcasm. "I swear, if you don't stick to your word, I'll cut your parts off."

Charlie huffed. "Emie, please. These are not words for a young lady."

She glared at him. "Charlie, with all due respect, fuck off." Then back at Henry. "Got it?"

He waved his hands in the air. "Got it!"

* * *

The following morning, Emie couldn't eat anything. Water did go down, but extremely painfully, and she had to be very stubborn to hurry to the O.R. without a good breakfast in her stomach.

But Henry didn't see that.

He barely greeted her before shoving her her new white apron and gloves.

She sighed and looked at the man on the table.

Another victim of the iron bullet. The poor man had his arms reduced to shreds, and a horribly bleeding hole was showing on his left thigh.

Emie didn't stand to look, turned around, and vomited into the sink.

This time Henry didn't let her argue.

He grabbed her in his arms, left his patient to Dr Salomon, and drove her to a consult box.

* * *

Two nurses were soon around her, palming, measuring, touching.

Henry wasn't standing on his spot.

"So, what is it?"

Emie couldn't bear it either. She shoved one nurse's hand off her for the millionth time, and glared so hard she could only wait for an answer.

"Well, Dr Lennings, I think congratulations are in order."

Emie widened her eyes. "What is that Chinese you're serving us? What do I have?"

The nurse glared back and took a tone used for really dumb people. "You're pregnant!"

* * *

The words kicked in very slowly.

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

And there could only be one father.

Oh, dear Lord.

She was having James' baby.

* * *

Emie collapsed once again.

Henry caught her and rolled his eyes for the trillionth time that day.

Seriously, that woman was a curse.

* * *

_Alright, I guess you all knew, didn't you? It was written in the stars, anyway._

_ Review! :)_


	15. Asking

_ A/N: After the big revelation, here comes one uneasy part... :(_

* * *

**15. Asking**

* * *

Emie didn't stay off for long that time. She was more aware than ever that she had put herself in the worst of situations.

First, she was stuck in a time and space far far away from her own.

Second, she was pregnant with a man who could have been her great-grand-father.

Third, she wanted to keep it. Because it was James' child. Hopefully, it would have his blue eyes.

She smiled at the thought.

* * *

"Henry, I would _really_ like to go out now."

Henry rolled his eyes and kept gripping the doorknob. Emie had tried to sneak out of her room numerous times now, but as their quarters were still awfully close to the morgue, he was trying most hardly to prevent her from being sick.

To be honest, Henry didn't really care that Emie had slept with Nicholls. He had known from the very beginning that gaining her heart wouldn't have been easy. There had been that slight hope of course, when they both let their mutual attraction give in, but now that she was having his baby and that he was dead, Henry knew he had left to no chance to win over Emie's heart.

"Emie, I told you, you can't get out now, it's too...bloody out here!"

"Then blindfold me! I _need_ to get out, Henry, please, this place is driving me _mad_!"

Out of everything, what infuriated him even more was that he was unable to say no to that woman.

"Alright, move out of the way, I'm coming in."

* * *

Emie breathed in the sunlit air in the hospital's garden.

"I've never felt so peaceful in a long long time."

Henry looked at her, that special glint in his grey eyes on again, and she stared at him for a long moment.

He himself was staring at her growing belly.

Four months she had been pregnant now, and it started to show, especially since Emie was so naturally slight.

She glanced at her stomach and smiled, pushing a hand to it.

When she looked back up at Henry, his eyes had hardened.

"Henry?"

"I need to talk with you."

And she knew it wouldn't be an easy talk.

* * *

"What is it Henry?"

He sighed and put his face in his hands while, next to him on the bench, Emie stared at him, concerned.

"Henry, you said you wanted to talk, then _talk_!"

He snorted. "Damn, you really are a pain in the ass, Emie, d'you know that?"

She chuckled darkly. "Yes, you've said it quite enough times for me to know that, actually."

He sighed again. "It's about..._this_."

"_This_?"

"Yeah, _this_!" He gestured at her belly and Emie put a protective hand on it.

"What do you-?"

"Look, I know you want to keep it, and I understand you, somehow, after all, it's a part of Nicholls and everything, but you have to be reasonable."

"_Reasonable_? How?" She really didn't get any of this.

"Emie, have you got any idea of how this must look to other people?" She shook her head. "They all think it's mine."

Her blue eyes widened. "Oh. Damn."

"Yeah, damn, indeed. Especially since I...you know...haven't..._married_ you yet."

Emie kept blocked onto the words. "Yet? You _intend_ to?"

Henry's eyes locked on hers and she knew he was becoming more serious than ever. "Emie, if I don't marry you, it would be as if I publicly announced to the world it isn't my baby, and, therefore, that you're a _whore_."

Emie let out a squeak. "I don't want _anyone_ to say that of me!"

"I know, neither do I. So..." he let himself fall onto his knees and took the hand to was resting on her belly "Emie Tate, would you marry me? For...decoy?"

She chuckled. "Henry, I can't marry you, it would mean that I would have to-"

"You don't have to do anything. Emie, for heaven's sake, d'you really think I would sink so low as to make love to you while you're attending _Nicholls_' child?"

She blushed at the thought. "I hope not."

"I won't. Now tell me, will you or won't you?"

She sighed. "I will, if I must."

And she got up and took a walk on her own. She needed it like air.

* * *

Henry sat back on the bench and took his head in his hands, cursing himself.

If everything, he really hadn't intended to marry the woman he loved out of generosity.

And he hated that he liked she had said yes nonetheless.

* * *

_I hate that situation, don't you?_

_ Will get better, of course, don't worry. ^^_

_ Review!_


	16. Celebration

_ A/N: Sorry to say that this is the second-to-last chapter. But I think you all understand this story had to end one day or another anyway... ^^_

* * *

**16. Celebration**

* * *

Emie was dumbfounded. Never had she wished any of this to ever happen, and yet here it was, staring at her straight in the face.

She was pregnant in an era where sleeping with someone off marriage was an affront. So she had to make it right by marrying someone.

No, she felt really really bad for another reason. She was painfully aware that Henry still loved her, and marrying him without reciprocating those feelings was like a treason.

But there again, she lied to herself.

She loved Henry. Just not quite in the same way.

The death of James had had her so completely dead inside that she knew the path to another love life would be the worst ever chosen.

* * *

"Emie!"

It was a month later. The wedding was scheduled for the following day, and Emie had been wearing her dress all morning for last rectifications. Her growing belly wasn't really easy to work with, especially when its bearer had cravings every ten minutes.

"Charlie!" She nearly jumped off the plot on which she had been standing and launched herself into the former Lieutenant's arms. "Oh, how happy I am to see you!"

He made her swirl in the air and then put her back down, eyeing her stomach with interested eyes. "So, is it giving you a hard time yet?"

She smiled. "No, he's not kicking or anything, it's too early I think. Or hope, in fact."

He chuckled lightly. "So, has Henry told you the big news?" She shook her head. "I'm going to be best man!"

Emie's eyes widened and then her smile followed. "Charlie, that's wonderful! I'm gonna kill Henry for not telling me!"

And it was true. She knew Henry had chosen Charlie, not because he was close to him, but because he was somehow a souvenir of what occurred and what might have been.

* * *

The two friends talked for hours, and the tailors were more than happy with Charlie's presence, since it kept Emie's attention focused onto something else than hunger.

After his shoulder wound, Charlie had been given his card, free to go back to the country and settle down for a bureau work. He was now working under the orders of a woman, and was very keen into being the most perfect at his task.

Said woman was his date for the wedding.

* * *

When Emie walked down the aisle gripping her boss' arm, she felt like a dream.

Her white fitting dress, all carved in lace and strapless, fell around her like a breath of wind, and her hair was tucked on her head, making her look like an angel.

Many whispered as she passed them, her swollen belly showing in her curves, and she smiled at them. Most were old ladies, come there to witness the wedding of strangers.

And then her blue eyes settled onto Henry.

He was wearing a grey tuxedo, a rose tucked at his pocket, an air of total happiness plastered onto his features, his grey eyes lighting with amazement when he saw his future wife approach.

Emie forgot most things when her hand found his. She forgot her state, forgot James, forgot the war. Anything but Henry's genuine happiness was clouded.

She allowed herself to smile.

A genuine smile.

* * *

They hadn't had time or money to host a big wedding party, but some people were still invited to a quick meal into Henry's and Emie's new home at the edge of town. If she walked ten minutes, Emie knew she'd find the sea, and she thought about her child running in the sand and writing its name into it.

Henry grabbed her hand and she focused back onto her guests. Charlie and Moira – his boss and date – were sitting in front of her and she found Moira really easy to talk to. Charlie had an air of innocence and gentleness on his face when he looked at her, and Emie thought that another wedding would be in order that way too.

Dr Fallon, Emie's boss in the hospital, was sitting next to Henry with his wife Annie and daughter Claire, who was finding her mother's fork most entertaining.

Next to Emie sat Nathalie, her fellow nurse, and that was it.

Emie smiled at the scene and at Henry's hand on hers, and then...

* * *

"The baby kicked! Seriously, Henry, it kicked! Put your hand on it, don't be a coward, I swear I felt it!"

Emie took her new husband's hand and pushed it onto her belly, and on cue, her offspring kicked his foster-father's hand twice.

Her blue eyes widened at the scene Henry offered.

He was totally and utterly happy.

She involuntarily frowned, but it passed unnoticed.

* * *

The evening finished soon, and Emie found herself in Henry's arms, passing their home's threshold.

When he settled her down onto their bedroom's floor, Emie felt her guts tighten.

But Henry didn't do anything to make her feel awkward. Instead, he just helped her with the laces in her back, and left her alone, when she could get out of her dress and into her silken white gown for the night.

When she settled into their bed's sheets, Emie waited and searched for an excuse not to do what was expected in a wedding night.

But minutes passed.

They turned to instants.

And then an hour had passed, and Henry still wasn't back.

Emie silently got up and opened the creaking door, peeking into the living-room.

* * *

Henry was entangled in sheets. On the couch.

His features relaxed, a smile plastered on his face.

Emie swore between her teeth.

How much of an idiot she was!

* * *

_Review! :D_


	17. A life worth fighting for

_ A/N: This, unfortunately, is the last chapter to What it makes us. I hope you liked the journey and won't be disappointed by this last part of Emie's adventures. Please do review! :)_

* * *

**17. A life worth fighting for**

* * *

Two weeks later, Emie and Henry had settled in an easy married life. As the hospital wasn't far from their house, he was going to work by foot, while his wife, as pregnant as she was, stayed home, taking care of their comfortable wooden house and garden.

She almost forgot that she was married. Henry wasn't touching her more than usual, only kissed her cheek when he left in the morning and left her to their bedroom at night.

The only change was that whenever someone crossed her path, she was no longer Miss Tate, but Mrs Lennings.

* * *

"Emie? Emie, where are you?"

She lifted her gaze from the last of her strawberries and waved Henry to come over.

He smiled and quickly headed to his wife, and she tilted her head in wonder.

"What is it?"

He smiled wider and waved his hands in the air in excitation. "We're going back home! Solomon and I have been granted passage back to England! Isn't it wonderful?"

Emie's eyes widened in shock and her first reflex was to look over at what she already started to consider 'home'.

But then, Henry walked to her and pushed a hand to her belly, and the touch unnerved both her and her baby. "Think about him. Don't you wish your child to be born in a safe place?"

She thought about it quickly. Of course she wanted her child to live in the safest place possible! But England being it, no, it didn't feel right.

Still, she nodded as slowly as she could.

"Alright, then. We'll leave in a rough week, I have to settle everything down with Charlie, he said he could help us find a house."

She hadn't followed anything more than useful and nodded grimly, before leaving her garden and locking herself in the bathroom, back inside.

She silently sobbed for a while before straddling James' letter in her pocket.

* * *

"So, what do you think, Emie?"

Two weeks later, Mr and Mrs Lennings were back on their homeland, and Charlie was playing guide for them in the charming town of Earltown. They were currently standing in front of a small but charming house, its white walls covered in ivy.

"It's...charming, Charlie, really. I can see myself living here." She said it quietly, quieter as she could when her heart beat so hard against her ribs.

Involuntarily, she detested Henry for making her leave France, the country where she had lived so much with James. In a sense, leaving France was leaving a part of herself behind, and she couldn't accept that.

But then, her baby made itself known, and she thought about it more than about its father.

* * *

Time passed by, and Emie's life was becoming less and less what she had hoped it to be.

By the time she was due, she lived every day like the previous, and Henry wasn't helping. He still refused to share the bedroom with his wife no matter what argument she could give, and pushed her to do the same tasks each and every morn.

She was tired, and bored.

She missed her time, she missed her studies.

She missed her work.

She missed James.

* * *

"Henry!"

Her cries echoed in the whole house, and Henry soon appeared at the bathroom door, wearing his black trousers, a white shirt slightly opened, and looked ready to go to bed.

Is wife was clutching her belly, and under her, a growing patch of water-like liquid.

"Is it...is it...coming?"

She nodded and a tear escaped her eyes.

Henry quickly took her in his arms and headed her towards their bedroom. Too late to make it to the hospital this late, and besides, he was a doctor.

* * *

Emie moaned in pain whenever a contraction tore her insides apart, and Henry chuckled at the names she called him whenever he entered her sight.

Soon she was lying down, her legs parted, spare beddings under her, each and every of her organs screaming in pain as the little being made its way towards the light.

"Emie, I need you to breathe heavily, like you know how. Then, you push, and release, alright?"

She cried in answer but started panting like she knew every pregnant woman did when the time had come.

* * *

The first two pushes were excruciating, as if something was stabbing her inside the womb, tearing her flesh apart, as if she was being eaten from the inside.

And then she felt it. It was coming. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath, and pushed harder than ever.

And the head was out.

And then it was out.

* * *

"Emie, it's a girl. It's a girl!"

She huffed and smiled, outstretching her arms immediately for her daughter.

Henry's face, happier than she ever saw it, approached her and a bundle of clothes made its way towards her.

Inside, a tiny and gorgeous baby was opening her eyes, two beautiful...blue eyes.

Emie chuckled and kissed her daughter's head before she squealed in awe.

"Welcome, Janie."

Henry knelt beside them and straddled the baby's head. "Janie. That's beautiful."

And their gazes met.

* * *

Many things were understood.

Nothing was more a proof of his undying love than Henry's absolute and immediate love for her daughter. And James'.

Emie felt so bad to make Henry live this at her side.

But then, he looked nothing if not content.

After he had tended at his wife and made sure she wouldn't bleed to death, Henry escaped the room to fetch some clothes for baby Janie.

Who had been eating like an ogre before falling asleep on her mother's chest.

Emie took her in.

Apart from her eyes, she looked little like her father. Maybe her hair would be more bronze than blonde, but that was all.

Hands, ears, nose, round face, everything screamed she was Emie's daughter.

She smiled at the sight.

Her baby.

* * *

"How is she?"

Emie cut her contemplation and looked as Henry entered back the room, as slowly and discreetly as he could not to wake the marvel up.

"She's sleeping."

He smiled kindly at the sight and slowly and carefully put his hands under the offspring, lifting her in his arms and cuddling her as he walked to her cot, next to Emie.

Seeing her angry stare, he chuckled softly. "You should take care of yourself as well, Mother."

Her glare faded and she looked at him with a renewed affection when she saw with which care her put her – their – daughter down in her bed, covering her with a thin blanket, stroking her rosy cheeks before turning back to her mother.

He caught her stare and his eyebrows met.

"What is it?"

Emie shrugged and ignored the pain when she sat up. She winced a little at the fading tear, but quickly plastered a serious look on her face.

Henry walked to her and sat next to her, eyeing his wife as if he was concerned she'd be ill.

"Emie, what is it?"

For all answer, she carefully took his cheek in her palm, and pulled him down to her.

Touching his lips with hers, carefully, slowly, but happily.

James might have died, but he still lived in Emie's heart.

No matter what.

* * *

_Aw, it was soooo hard to write this one!_

_ Review please, as it, I'm afraid, is the last line of this story... :/_


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